I have to wonder why I seem to be missing the "interest in my forebears" gene. Maybe because I didn't much like the domineering immigrant Italian grandparents that were an everyday part of my growing up (we lived in the same building that they owned, and there was the requisite five course dinner every night)(my grandparents had owned three restaurants in NY before I was born). Everyone was old (62 by the time I was born) and Catholic (except for my grandfather, and atheist, and perhaps it's good I didn't understand the fights in Italian he had with my rosary toting grandmother). They just seemed like they wanted me to be what they wanted instead of who I was: I think I rejected them as much as they rejected me, while still loving me because, well, one just HAS to love family, no matter who you're saddled with. (Their perspective, NOT mine!)

I guess I'm feeling envious. :-) (Which is not the same as jealous. It's nicer. :-) )